


All We Need Is Some Love

by Kurei16



Category: Spies In Disguise (2019)
Genre: Gen, Hiding, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Redemption, Running, Slow Burn, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurei16/pseuds/Kurei16
Summary: Walter doesn't agree with the punishment H.Y.U.V. organization came out with regarding Killian and his crimes. He decides he should take matters in his own hands, which ends up with him breaking Killian out. That, of course, causes a lot of chaos and panic, while Walter is trying to change Killian for better. It’s not easy, with agency’s best agents following them and Killian’s ex trying to kill them. But Walter is one stubborn scientist, he will definitely do whatever he can.
Relationships: Killian & Marcy Kappel, Walter Beckett/Lance Sterling
Comments: 26
Kudos: 111





	1. On a Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I decided to test the waters with this short little fic opening and here I am! I was thinking about how could the sequel look like and I came out with that little idea, that's growing into a whole story. I'm still working on the title, as well as the whole story. Thats why im planning to ad some more tags later. I'm also planning on tossing ships here and there, Lance x Walter and Killian x Marcy mostly, but I'll try to make it subtle and keep attention on the story itself.
> 
> It's a long time since I'm posting without preparing at least two next chapters, but I wanna see if you will enjoy the idea. I hope you will. I promise there's more going to happen, and it's going to happen fast! I will also try to keep the updates regular.
> 
> Have fun!

This whole situation was somehow abstract. The whole thing. Since the moment Killian stepped out of the facility he was held in last two months, through that pigeon, looking at him with some kind of hate in eyes to the kid, sleeping peacefully right by his side. Killian wasn't sure what was the most confusing, to be honest. Probably that pigeon. For sure that pigeon, who seemed to hate his guts, even though it was just a dumb bird.

But okay, let's start from the beginning. Two months ago Killian was captured by the H.T.U.V. organization and sentenced to death. Apparently though they couldn't do it right away because his attack caused a lot of damage that couldn't wait to get fixed. Those were two, very long and very boring months he spent mostly on working out or reading. He didn't really think about breaking out. He didn't have anyone he could go back to anymore, who would come to help him and now all this revenge seemed… pointless to him. He still hated the agency, hated Sterling, but what could it change? He was going to die anyway and, surprisingly, he was okay with that. Killian didn't really believe in the life after death but if there was even a tiny chance he could met with his old people he would take it.

Then the first unexpected thing happened. That guy, the same guy that Killian saw _dying_ _two times_ , showed up with new prosthetic arm for him and a deal. At first Killian wasn't sure. He couldn't believe someone would actually come and want to selflessly help him. But the kid kept talking and talking and Killian just couldn't not agree. Mostly for him to finally shut up! Damn! How could _anyone_ keep babbling for so long?!

So, the kid helped him with putting the prosthetic on, throw some kind of invisibility blanket on him and walked him out of that facility like if nothing happened. Only when they were sitting in a jet the kid decided to explain to him the  _ second _ part of the deal.

Basically the prosthetic was a trap and Walter wanted to resocialize Killian. That, of course, made the villain laugh but not for long.

The arm’s purpose was pretty much to keep Killian in place. It would activate a catching protocol if Killian as much as killed a fly apparently. Or moved twenty feet away from Walter. Or try to attack Walter. Or try to take it off. Honestly, Killian wasn’t sure if he could even breathe without triggering this rainbow piece of junk.

From what the kid explained the arm was supposed to release something similar to that balloon Killian was caught in two months ago and then give out his position to the agency. The villain didn’t really care. As it was said, he had no one. Even the revenge seemed pointless. Dying as one of the biggest terrorists honestly didn’t sound so bad. But that kid peaked his curiosity. His idealistic, naive way of thinking was nothing but cute. Honestly, he just asked to have his hopes and dreams crushed by Killian and he couldn’t wait to show the kid how  _ the real world _ worked. How there was no rainbows, bubbles and uni-somethings whatever it was. There were guns, fire and pain.

Killian touched the scarred half of his face, the cold metal that was used as a replacement for most of his skin and few bones. He’d rather cover it, hating the way it looked now, with the crazy eye and most of his hair gone, but Walter had nothing to mask his scars in the little arsenal he brought. Again, it was mostly harmless junk, cutesy and with stupid names Killian couldn’t even care to remember. He grumbled under his nose.

The autopilot was set to land somewhere in Europe. Killian didn’t really pay attention when Walter explained his plan to hide from H.T.U.V. For him this whole thing would end in no more than few days. He couldn’t protect himself, he had no one to stand by him but that scrawny kid, who probably didn’t even know how to throw a punch, and the agency wasn’t his only problem. He had a lot of enemies and  _ some _ of them probably already knew he’s out. If he wasn’t going to die on an electric chair, or whatever the agency used, he was going to be killed in a combat soon.

Killian’s eyes again fell on the kid, sleeping peacefully on the chair next to him, drooling onto his shoulder. Then he was met with judging look of that pigeon, sitting on Walter’s head, and Killian looked away with a grunt. He looked through the window, on the starry sky.

During those two, long months he thought a lot about what happened. How the kid risked his life just to save not only the whole agency but also Killian himself. The man who tried to kill him and every single person he may know. The man who was the last one to deserve being saved.

It sat pretty weirdly in his stomach. Like if he ate something bad and it wasn’t yet making him sick but he knew it will soon, but it felt like that those two months. It was annoying. It was almost as if he felt guilty for something but that was impossible. The only ones that should feel guilty was the agency and Sterling here.

Weirdly enough, when Killian asked Walter what does Sterling think about his betrayal, because breaking Killian out of the jail was an obvious betrayal, Walter only shrugged and quickly changed the topic. From the little bit he knew, Killian thought they’re quite close. Something like Batman and Robin, maybe. He even thought that they’re going to meet Sterling in Europe, that was why he asked. He could bear working with the kid, but if he was forced to work with Sterling he would rather go back to the agency and get killed immediately. But it seemed like Sterling was not involved in Walter’s little escapade and it was another thing that seemed weird for Killian. He couldn’t catch why, though.

Suddenly the silence inside the jet was broken by a beeping sound. Killian’s eyes immediately fell on the screen in front of him and his eyebrow frowned deep upon reading Sterling’s name. Walter tensed on his chair and slowly opened his eyes, awakened by the sound. He looked at the screen and without thinking much he reached to answer the call. Killian immediately grabbed his hand, making the pigeon, sitting on Walter’s head, coo with alarm.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Killian with voice rougher than usual. He didn’t use it much lately.

“Ah, right.” Walter moved his hand back, freeing himself from Killian’s grab. “I didn’t think.”

“You better think more, kid. Unless you wanna get us caught before we’ll even land.”

Walter glared at Killian with tired, somehow sour look on his face. It was quite obvious he was still half asleep. The beeping noise finally stopped but right after it did there was another signal. Walter read the message shown on the screen and chewed on his lower lip.

_ Walter pick up your damn phone, I need to talk to you! _

The message vanished quickly and Killian glared at Walter. The kid was scratching the pigeon on his head and had a troubled look on his face. Killian almost felt sorry for him, but really, it was Walter’s decision to do all of this. He should man up and deal with it.

Walter jumped up slightly when the beeping noise came back. He clenched his jaw and reached for the screen, ending the call. Then he turned off the sound.

“Sorry,” he said, like if it was his fault Sterling started bombarding his phone with calls. “Anyway, don’t you want to rest? We still have a lot of time to spend in here. After we land there may be no time for sleeping and stuff.”

Killian only shrugged and looked away from the kid and outside of the window. He really didn’t feel like talking right now.

Apparently Walter got the clue because he didn’t keep talking. He just sat down more comfortably and tried to fall back asleep. Killian had to wonder how is he able to sleep when he’s locked up with someone like the villain, but didn’t really dwell on it.

* * *

It was a very pretty day somewhere in Croatia. It was warm, sunny, and a nice, cold cocktail with a fancy, little umbrella gave the day a special vibe.

Eva Thierry was laying on a sunbed, in the shadow of a lot bigger umbrella than that one in her drink, reading a book on a reader. She was thin and pale, despite already spending few days on that beach. Her short, curled hair was tucked in a tight ponytail on the back of her head and her green eyes were quickly sliding over the text. She giggled softly at a joke one of the characters made in the book and drank a little from her glass.

“ _ Madame _ Thierry!  _ Madame _ Thierry!” someone yelled suddenly. Eva looked above her reader and saw one of her men, running on the pebbles laying around the beach. Finally he reached her sunbed, took a deep breath and tried to choke out something.

“Slowly, Theo,” said Eva, with a small smile. “Take a breath first.”

The man, Theo, nodded rapidly and breathed deeply for a moment before straightening. He looked seriously at the woman.

“ _ Madame _ . McFord. He escaped H.T.U.V. We just got the info.”

Eva, upon hearing the news, spilled the cocktail she was currently drinking and swore. Then she rapidly put the glass down, put on silly looking beach shoes to not hurt her feet on the pebbles and stood up. She quickly grabbed the glass, downed what was still in there and only then looked at Theo again.

“Wait, do we know where he is right now?” she asked.

Theo made a face and sadly shook his head. “Our guy in there send us the info as fast as he learned it. Apparently no one knows where McFord went. There’s a rumour someone betrayed them, too.”

“Ooh.” Eva smiled with interest. “A betrayal. Interesting. But okay, since we doesn’t know where exactly is he, let’s wait. It’s McFord, he can’t stay down for long.”

“So… we’re not leaving yet?”

“No. It’s dinner time anyway. Let’s eat before making any rapid decision.” Eva put shorts over her bikini and a light shirt over her shoulders, then a hat with a big rondo on her head. After getting herself ready she collected her towel, reader and stuffed them into a big bag. “Not even McFord will take away the octopus they’re serving here away from me.”

“Should I go tell the others what are we doing then?” asked Theo. Eva shook her head.

“Keep me company in the restaurant, the food is always tastier when you eat it with someone.”

“Of course,  _ Madame _ .”

Theo followed his employer to the nearest restaurant, where they ate fresh sea food they served there.

Of course it was Eva’s damned luck for Killian to break out exactly four days after she started vacations. That man was the biggest pain in her butt since that day she helped him, but his latest actions went way too far. The moron was going to pay for all those years she wasted on him or die.


	2. In Which Lance Is A Little Nervous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter that's a little bit more of an intro but from Lance's point of view this time.
> 
> A lot of people said that they like the first chapter and the idea that I showed in it. Thank you so much everyone! You have no idea how much it helped me to go on!

The voicemail went on for the fourteenth time and Lance angrily ended the call. He already recorded few, heated messages, then one where he apologized for the past few and begged Walter to contact him. There was no point in making more of them. But there was never a limit of messages he could send to Walter’s phone. And, knowing millennials with their aversion to talking through the phone, which especially applied to Walter, it was more efficient way of contacting the younger man. It would be, if Walter answered _any_ of Lance’s messages. He wasn’t trying to track him, goddamnit! He just wanted to make sure Walter was _safe_.

Well, okay. That wasn’t the whole truth. Lance tried to track Walter, but he was _not_ doing that for the agency. He needed to find Walter first, to at least _try_ to make this whole thing less dangerous that it already was for his friend.

Lance hit the wheel of his car and swore. He should have noticed earlier. Walter was so much against Killian’s punishment, it should be obvious for Lance that he will do something about this. It was Walter. He was stubborn and didn’t give up and didn’t care about himself when the other lives were involved and those were as much good traits as they were terrible.

There were few things Lance was realizing only now, that were obvious preparations for what Walter did. He was spending most of his free time, which he didn’t have much anyway, working on, what he called it, _secret project_ . He was talking _a lot_ about places in Europe he wanted to see. Around a week ago he said his phone broke and he got himself a temporary, prepaid one, because he had no time to check his old one. That’s why Lance, thankfully, had his current number. He had no idea what would he do if he couldn’t even try to contact Walter.

Suddenly Lance’s phone went on and he jumped to grab it. His excitement died out though, when he didn’t see Walter’s name on the screen. He answered anyway.

“Yes?”

“Lance, where the hell are you? You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago!” Joy sounded furious and Lance couldn’t blame her. Walter managed to break Killian out right under the nose of every single spy in the organization. Even Lance’s. The situation was quite tense for everyone. “I hope you’re not planning to chase him on your own, huh?”

Ah, Joy knew him too well.

“‘m not, sorry. On my way,” said Lance. Before Joy could say anything he hang up.

Lance tried to call Walter one more time but he didn’t answer again. _It’s night_ \- thought Lance, trying to calm the nervous shaking of his hands. _Maybe he’s asleep. I’ll try again in the morning._

The engine didn’t even make a sound when Lance started it and normally it would make him proud of his awesome car. But now he had something more important on his mind and he couldn't think about anything else. Find Walter. Put him somewhere safe. Make sure he won’t end up in jail for the rest of his life.

* * *

People in the agency, those having night shifts, weren’t as ecstatic to see him as usual. The rumour had to spread and Lance wasn’t really surprised. He smiled and greeted some of his coworkers before entering the elevator. Only then he let the smile fall from his face. Just for a moment though.

He was so, so worried. About what is currently happening with Walter, about what will he hear on the meeting. There was a possibility that Joy will put him away from chasing the younger man, since they became pretty close during those two months. He swore he will find him on his own then. He _couldn’t_ let anyone else find him first.

Lance left the elevator and took few, confident steps before entering the meeting room. Everyone were already there, furious looking Joy and few of her assistants, two other spies and…

“Marcy?” Lance was surprised, seeing the woman there as well. But, well, in this situation it shouldn’t be anything surprising. After all it was internal forces issue, one of the workers betrayed (again) the agency, was on the run and, honestly, Marcy was good in finding people.

Before Marcy could greet him in any possible way Joy interrupted, with an angry: “Finally.” Then, when Lance sat down by the oval table, she continued.

“Glad to have you all here,” she said, looking mostly at Lance. “The situation is known to everyone here, I believe?” It was a rhetorical question. Together with the information about the crisis meeting Joy send also every single information they could gather. There was no video from the security cameras because, of course, Walter had thought everything through before. He, apparently, managed to alter the video with a small device he left behind. Then he got in. No one knew what happened inside, no single guard noticed him leaving _with_ Killian, but a hour later they found out there’s only a holographic image of the terrorist inside his cell.

Lance would be actually proud, if he wasn’t so damn pissed. Walter wasn’t even a spy and yet he did such a great job.

“We already lost a lot of time, from what we know Beckett could be already in Mexico, or somewhere over the ocean.” Joy kept talking. Lance wasn’t really listening, trying to sort his thoughts. He knew how those meetings looked like. “We need every single detail we can gather, what did he work on lately, what did he talked about, what did he ate. The vaccinations, vet visits, calls, everything.”

It got quiet. Too quiet. Lance looked up and noticed that everyone is looking at him, waiting.

“What?”

“You spent the most time with Walter since he got the promotion. You two were living with each other for a while. You should know the most, Lance.” There was a pressure in Joy’s voice, like if she wanted to tell him to _not_ lie but couldn’t word it in current situation.

“Living with each other is a little too much to say. I saw him mostly in here anyway,” lied Lance. He was not going to give any information the other spies, or worse, Marcy, could use to find Walter. He wouldn’t give anyone the head start, especially the woman that stuck to his tail when he was on his own runaway.

“That’s bullshit,” huffed Joy, crossing arms over her chest. “Everyone in agency knows you two became inseparable. It’s impossible you didn’t notice anything.”

“I know I should,” barked Lance, clenching his fist, laying on the table. “He got himself a prepaid phone, he was working a lot during the nights and still talking how unfair and bad the agency’s decision was, but I never thought he would break out that piece of shit.”

Joy looked at him for a very nervous, very difficult moment, but Lance was not a novice, he knew how to lie and hide his real emotions. Finally Joy sighed, shook her head and again started talking. Lance didn’t pay attention anymore.

He was worried about the two, other spies, sitting on the other side of the table, shoulder to shoulder. Vita Jostad and Tazuma Haraguchi. They were a team, always working together, amazing at getting informations from other people and when the job had to be quiet. They used different tactics than Lance usually did - poison, seduction, eavesdropping. It wasn’t like Lance never did any of those, of course. He just was more about good entrances and effects, he guessed.

It wasn’t that what worried him, though. He knew they were good, worked fast and almost never failed. Besides Marcy they were the best for this job, and the worst for Lance. He had to be wary about them. He had to be wary about every single person in this room.

“Lance, are you even listening to me?” Joy turned toward Lance again, scolding him with her eyes. He stood up.

“Of course I am. Can we go now? We’re losing time here.”

“True,” nodded the woman. “You’re working with Kappel. Spread out.”

“What?!” demanded Lance but Joy and her assistants were already leaving. At first he wanted to follow her but he stopped himself.

“Wow. That wasn’t the nicest reaction,” hummed Marcy, approaching him with a smirk. Lance clenched his jaw and sighed. His hands were trembling again. He wanted to do something and do it fast.

“Sorry,” he said. “But I really can’t work with you on this. Sorry again, I gotta move finally-”

“Oh look, the little puppy is gone and Sterling is again a lone wolf!” Tazuma suddenly spoke, making Lance and Marcy look up at him and his partner. Vita only sighed and shook her head.

“Don’t be a child, Tazu,” she scolded him, but there was no real force in her voice. “And move. Lance got a point, even though he was late himself and made us waste whole ten minutes. In every minute Beckett can be further and further away.”

Lance frowned but quickly faked a smile. He didn’t make much effort, though. “Right. That’s why we’re gonna chit chat the other time,” he said and left the room, waving at the trio inside, not even thinking about working with any of them. Marcy didn’t wait, rushing after him.

“Lance. Lance!” She grabbed Lance’s forearm, forcing him to stop. He looked at her impatiently. Few people passed by them, whispering something to each other, but any of them paid attention. “Can you calm down at least for a moment?”

“I don’t have another moment, Marcy,” bit back Lance. She only shook her head and lowered her voice.

“Listen, we have to work together. You know very well that we have way more chances to find him that way first.” Lance made a sour face, making Marcy drop her voice even more. “You know I like Walter, he’s a good guy. I want to help you.”

“And are you ready to break the rules if we’ll need to?” asked Lance, with unbelieving voice. This time Marcy made a face. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Lance was about to turn around and hurry toward the elevator, but Marcy stopped him again. “I will. I, I’ll try. I want him to be safe too, Lance. I know he didn’t do that because he’s on Killian’s side and I don’t want him to go to jail because of the treason.”

Lance obviously thought about it for a second. “Where’s your team?” he asked finally, pushing the elevator button. Marcy smiled at him, glad he decided to listen.

“They’re checking Killian’s cell for any clue-”

“They _can’t_ work with us. The less people know what are we about to do the better.”

Marcy sighed, deciding to not mention Lance's choice of words. They entered the elevator. “They’re good people, they know how to keep a secret and additionally Eyes and Walter became quite friends lately. She’s probably as worried as us,” she said but then looked at worried, impatient look on Lance’s face and smiled lightly. “Okay. I won’t involve them.”

“Thank you.”

“So, where to now? Do you have an idea where Walter could take Killian?”

“I don’t, but I have an idea where can we find out about it.”

Lance smiled, finally without forcing himself to do it. He had Marcy on his side. Walter had to leave _something_ in the guest room in Lance’s apartment he was using. Finding him will go flying.

* * *

Finding Walter did not start flying.

Only when Lance parked under his apartment he realized that no one, except Walter, saw his place. He never invited any coworker, he had no time for dating because of his work. He, himself, barely spent time there. And he never really thought about what it was to invite someone over. Now, even though Marcy was there only to help him search Walter’s room, he felt some sort of anxiety. His place was not cozy nor personified in any way. He liked it that way, he didn’t have to worry about losing any personal stuff or giving out his (possible) weaknesses in case some of his enemies find out his cage. But that was letting someone he could consider a friend see his place and it felt… weird. He didn’t know what would Marcy think about him. She knew him better than most of the agency, she could take him as even more of a hermit than she already probably did. For some reason he didn’t want it to happen.

No. Not _for some reason_. Lance knew what was the reason. He was not a hermit. Past two months he learned that, despite not being sure about this at first, he loves having company. Walter brought some color to his apartment, a touch that made the place look more alive. He kept sure he doesn’t leave stuff in the living room or the kitchen, but some of them found their way there anyway. Be it forgotten tools left on the counter in the kitchen, dirty dishes none of them really had time to clean before leaving to work, single popcorn kernels that fell on the floor and Lance noticed only next day or even few strings Lance let Walter spread around the living room for Lovey (and occasionally Jeff and Crazy Eyes, since Walter kept letting them in every time they happened to be around).

Actually, maybe Marcy will be too focused on finding Walter and won’t see the lack of Lance’s stuff around the place?

In the elevator, taking them to the apartment, Lance had an interesting discovery. Back when Walter was bringing his stuff from the destroyed house and seeing his place for the first time Lance wasn’t that nervous. He didn’t have all those thoughts. He wondered why was it? Did those two months changed him so much? Or maybe it was Walter’s fault, Lance was sure he would never judge him only by seeing his apartment and he didn’t worry about it. Actually, even when the topic got into their discussion, when they were watching some movie on the couch and just chatting, and Walter asked if it wasn’t lonely here, Lance could easily talk about it. He was sure he couldn’t just sit with Marcy, have a drink and discuss how much he hated coming back home before Walter moved in that openly. Yeah, it was probably Walter’s fault. It was too easy to talk with him about things Lance hated even to think about.

But he had to admit, that boy was really fucking messy. Lance and Marcy immediately went for Walter’s room after entering the apartment. Lance never really came there, wanting to give Walter some privacy, just as Walter didn’t enter his own bedroom. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

It looked like every single thing he owned had mind on its own and wandered around the room when no one looked. Some papers were scattered around the unmade bed, looking like Walter slept with them, which gave Lance chills. His desk was literally covered in stacks of books, blueprints, parts of some mechanics and vials. And vials! They were everywhere, along with some laboratory devices and glass containers with neon liquids inside of them. The cleanest thing in the whole room was Lovey’s cage, probably because Walter almost never shut her in. Lance didn’t mind, really. He couldn’t even imagine how terrible it would be if he was forced to sit in a cage as a pigeon.

Despite the chaos they found something. Some notes and guidebooks in the mess on the bed, some plans on the desk. There was quite a lot of stuff they would have to go through to be able to visualize Walter’s plan and Lance was already nervous again. Marcy had to notice, because she smiled to him reassuring.

“We can’t be too hasty and you know it. Come on. We’ll be done in no time.”

Lance only nodded back and they moved all those papers into the living room. But before dumping them on the coffee table Marcy pointed out something laying on it.

“What’s that?” she asked, holding Walter’s things. Lance, following her, looked at the piece of paper she pointed out.

“Weird,” he said, putting things he was holding on the chair. “I didn’t notice it before.”

It was probably because he was in such a rush after getting the mail. Lance took the note while Marcy put the stuff she was holding onto the couch. The piece of paper was cutesy - pink, with manufactured drawing of a bird in the corner, and Lance could swear he could smell a sweet scent on it. It was painfully obvious that was from one of Walter’s notebooks he was finding in child isles and liked so much he barely used them. And it was full of his scrawny writing.

Lance frowned and read it.

_You’ll probably be angry and stuff but I couldn’t just sit idly and do nothing when no one really listened to me. Haha, you know me! Don’t be worried tho, I know what I’m doing. I’ll be ok. Just trust me._

_PS: I borrowed Dave. Sorry for not telling you._

“What?!” gasped Lance after finishing.

“Huh? What’s in there?”

“He took Dave!” Lance lead the note to Marcy and couldn’t contain a relieved chuckle. Marcy read the note and skewed her head a little, with confused expression.

“Who’s Dave?” she asked.

“It’s one of my jets,” explained Lance, taking out his phone.

Marcy lifted her eyebrows and then laughed a little herself. “Are you naming all of your stuff? What’s your car’s name?”

“No, and she’s Lauren.”

Marcy laughed even more hearing that but quickly tried to calm down. “Wait, wait, why are you laughing then? What’s so good about Walter taking one of your- _Dave_ ,” she couldn’t stop the laugh then, making Lance only shake his head with a smile.

“Walter is very smart but he’s still a novice,” he said, checking something out on his phone. “Both of my jets, helicopter and every car have installed a chip. If someone stole it I can easily track it. And I don’t have to call police if it’s some kind of agency related stuff- look!”

Lance showed his phone to still chuckling Marcy. She immediately got serious, looking at the app. There was a world map, a little, red dot over the ocean and chosen road for an autopilot. Lance knew Walter didn’t know how to fly the jet, but it was fully capable of flying and landing on its own if only the computer was set right. And that Walter was great in, especially after Lance showed him how to do it.

The fact that Walter used that knowledge against the agency and Lance sat uncomfortably in his stomach. He trusted Walter when teaching him about Dave. He kinda felt used in this moment.

“That’s great!” cheered Marcy, pulling Lance out of his thoughts. “What are we waiting for then?”

Lance sighed and hid his phone. Then moved to the kitchen, to grab two bags for the notes they found in Walter’s room.

“We’ll get Maddison. She have smaller tank but is faster than Dave. We should be able to overfly Walter and catch them when they’ll land in Europe.” Lance explained his plan and handed Marcy one of the bags. She nodded.

“And if something goes wrong we can always try finding him by those?” She pointed out to notes Lance was stuffing into his bag.

“Exactly,” he confirmed.

They took the full bags and left Lance’s apartment. In his audi, _pardon,_ in _Lauren_ they arrived at Lance’s private hangar in no time.


	3. In Which He Can Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys will like this one!
> 
> A little note: there's that possibility that the movie actually happens in 2021, so in this fic Walter is 22. Just a little notice, so you won't be confused!
> 
> Also you will take the bartender Killian headcanon out of my cold, dead hands.

Killian never really liked flying. It was always an annoying waste of time for him, he’d rather jump to action than have to sit eight hours in a deadly, flying can that could blow up in every second. Not even mentioning it was impossible to spend this time comfortably! Sits in planes just had to be constructed in a way that made sleeping well impossible. After a hour spent in it Killian’s neck usually ached, his legs, that never had enough space between the sits, begged him for some work out and his lower back felt like someone was stabbing him repeatedly with a spoon.

The jet he was currently in wasn’t that bad, thankfully. There was no crying babies, no snoring, no annoying  _ people _ around. And additionally he could move around as much as he wanted, stretch his legs or lay the back of one of the sits down without some  _ Karen _ complaining about it. And he found booze! There was quite a supply of different kind of alcohols in a bar and Killian didn’t even ask once before helping himself.

Walter slept through almost three hours of the flight before leaving the cockpit exactly when Killian was about to give a performance of his bartender skills. Their eyes met, Walter smiled and sat in one of the sits. He took out some food for the pigeon that was still sitting on his head. Seeing the food Lovey landed on the folding table, Killian forgotten for now.

“What are you doing there?” asked Walter, observing Lovey. After a moment he lifted his eyes on Killian.

“Uh. Long Island.” Well, it wasn’t  _ exactly _ Long Island. Killian just dumped few different types of alcohol, some lemon juice and syrup into the shaker. There was no option for him to taste any alcohol past two months, so he wanted to catch up.

“Oh, isn’t it like, super strong?” asked Walter with concern written on his face. Killian smirked.

“What. You think I can’t take it?”

“Oh no, I bet you can. Just, don’t get drunk, okay?”

Killian shook the shaker and poured the drink to a glass he prepared earlier. “We still have five hours to waste, what else can I do?” he murmured, taking a sip. Walter was silent for a moment, but at the end decided to not comment that.

“So… how do you know how to make drinks? And use all this stuff?” The younger man pointed to the things laying on a tiny jet bar Killian was standing behind. The shaker, strainer, jiggers and bar spoons Killian just used.

“I worked as a bartender when I was younger,” he said, leaning on the bar. His eyes fell on the prosthetic arm he was currently using but he quickly looked away. He took another sip.

“Really?! That’s so cool!” beamed Walter. “Do you know some bartender tricks?”

Killian straightened, rolling his eyes. Then again looked the prosthetic arm over. “I do. But I’m not used to this arm yet. And I’m not doing a drink just to waste it.”

“I can drink it!” offered Walter, a little too excited maybe. “And I bet you can do something easy!”

“You’re like, nineteen. I’m not giving you alcohol,” scoffed Killian with unconvinced look on his face. Walter blinked at him, confused.

“I’m twenty two,” he said.

“Really?” Killian would swear this kid was  _ not _ looking for twenty two. But he was not going to argue against his age. If he wanted to try Killian’s drink then be it. Who cared anyway. Killian started drinking when he was fifteen and the worst thing that happened to him were few bruises after a bar fight and a terrible hangover.

“I get that a lot,” sighed Walter. “So, can you show me?”

Killian sighed, rolled his eyes, groaned and finally nodded. He started preparing his space, taking another sip of his drink before starting. He cleaned the tools he previously used in the sink, dried them off and looked back at Walter.

“What drink do you want?” he asked. The dumbfounded expression on Walter’s face made Killian cringe. Of course the kid had no idea about drinks, Killian wasn’t sure what did he expect. He sighed. “What taste would you like. Something sweet?”

“Not too sweet?”

“Let’s see…” Killian looked around the supplies he had. He checked the small fridge, looked through the shelves with alcohol and examined juices he could use. Finally he nodded.

First Killian prepared a napkin, tossing it on the bar with a flick of his wrist. The napkin spin in the air and perfectly fell on the bar. Needless to say Walter was not prepared for the sudden movement and gasped, impressed. Killian continued, not paying attention to the younger man. He prepared a tall glass on the napkin, grabbed a small shaker in his prosthetic and poured some vodka into it. He tossed the shaker upside down into his right hand, without any of the alcohol spilling out, caught it and put on the bar. Then he took the jigger into right hand, swirled it in his fingers and poured second alcohol into it, then into the small shaker, then third alcohol and another. Without a pause Killian grabbed a bigger shaker, spin it in his right hand and put ice into it, then the content of the smaller shaker. He added cranberry juice, closed the container and shook it vigorously for few seconds. Then opened it, slapped the strainer onto it and poured the drink into the tall glass. At the end he peeled an orange, tossed the peel as a decoration and added a straw. When finished Killian looked at Walter with a “tadaa” gesture of his prosthetic.

Walter was stunned for a moment. The whole preparation of the drink took like, a minute. He never really saw a bartender preparing a drink live before and it was as impressive as it always seemed to be.

“I’m not bringing it to you,” grumbled Killian, pulling Walter out of his thoughts.

“Ah, yes, sure, sorry,” stammered Walter, standing up and going for the drink.

Killian drank his own, waiting for the reaction. The drink wasn’t really sweet, even bitter a little, but it was refreshing. He wondered if a kid, that probably didn’t drink much more than some beer or vodka with soda in his life, would like it. Walter tasted it.

“It’s good!” he said, drinking some more. “And all this stuff you did, tossing and pouring without spilling, it was amazing! I’m sure I would get everything all over myself, I’m not a great catcher.” Walter laughed and before Killian could say anything he continued. “I know you said you’re not used to this arm yet, but even despite that it looked great! How is it by the way? The arm?”

For a moment Killian was silent, with a disorientated expression waiting for Walter to start blabbering again. He was sure he could never get used to how much that kid was talking. Finally, when he was sure Walter is waiting for him to answer, with the straw between his lips, Killian moved slowly to get his own drink. He sipped it, put it down and looked over the prosthetic again, rotating it left and right.

It wasn’t as big as his old one and looked more like a normal prosthetic than a weapon. It also had four fingers, smaller than his old claws and covered with some kind of soft, anti-slip material. With two, ball joints in the elbow and wrist area Killian had a bigger range of movement and he had to admit, it looked quite sick when he bend the arm in a totally wrong direction. He really wanted to test it on some unsuspecting civilian and see their terrified face. He’ll have to get something with long sleeves though, to do that. And to cover the terrible, rainbow pattern that Walter decided to put all over the arm for some reason.

“It’s… not that gritty as the old one,” said Killian finally. “But it’s late for few seconds when I’m trying to move it.”

Immediately Walter spilled the straw and stood up.

“You should have said it earlier!” he said, moving into the cockpit and coming back with his backpack. “It was my first prosthetic ever, there for sure are gonna be some kinks to smoothen out. Lay it down, I’ll see what can I do about it.”

Killian was unsure about it, seeing Walter putting out his tools onto the bar and making some space. Finally he shrugged. Since the arm was going to work better because of that he was okay with some help, he guessed. And, anyway, few seconds delay was annoying.

Walter took a tiny screwdriver and opened a panel on the prosthetic’s forearm. It was full of wires and some knobs that Killian had no idea how to distinguish, so he only followed Walter’s actions. The younger man took a long tweezers, moved few wires away and, with even tinier screwdriver, started poking insides of the prosthetic. Killian got bored pretty quickly and wanted to reach for his drink, but Walter stopped him with hasty:

“Don’t move.”

They sat like that, with Walter holding some kind of spiky looking tool in his mouth and Lovey cooing on the back of one of the sits, for few minutes. Then Walter took the tool from his mouth into his hand and slowly poked insides of the prosthetic.

“Fuck-!” wailed Killian suddenly, jolting back from Walter. Walter also jumped back, quickly taking his tools away from Killian, not wanting to cause any damage by the sudden movement.

“Sorry,” he yelped. “The light’s not the best in here and it’s a precise job.”

Killian didn’t listen to Walter’s apology. With a shocked, bewildered even, expression he was looking at his prosthetic.

“What… the fuck?” he asked, not taking eyes away from the arm.

He… felt something. He felt pain in his arm, pain that was so close to a feeling of hitting a funny bone in the elbow it was almost the same. It was still there, lingering in his whole arm, but it was impossible for him to feel  _ anything _ in it, it was fake, it was not real, it was just a metal and some wires!

Killian didn’t feel anything like that in such a long time. In the other arm, yes, but it was different. The only feeling coming out of this one, all those years, were weight of the old prosthetic and occasionally ghost pain that was so bad he couldn’t even breath sometimes. It felt… so weird, to feel something else in there. Almost like the lost hand was there again, but Killian knew it was impossible!

“What the fuck?!” he asked again, this time moving the prosthetic in Walter’s direction, demanding an explanation. Even moving this thing now felt weird. The pain was gone but Killian could swear he’s still feeling it.

Walter twitched when Killian raised his voice, grabbing one of his forearms. “Uh,” he said, keeping his distance. It didn’t escape Killian’s notice, but he had more important topic on hand. Quite literally.

“Uh what? What the fuck was that?” prompted the older man. 

“I told you I’m still learning how to work on prosthetics!” Walter smiled nervously, putting down his hand and trying to relax. “And I didn’t have all those expensive, high tech fabrics with sensores mimicking the nerve endings, I had to work on my own scraps, so the whole touch isn’t great yet, but I’m gonna work it out. The insides are more sensitive though, that’s why I asked you to not move, if I stabbed you harder it would be very bad,” said Walter, finally putting down the tool he was holding on the bar. But, despite his explanation, Killian still looked lost.

“What- touch? What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, so it would feel closer to real hand than just a piece of machinery.” Killian obviously didn’t have an answer to that. Walter patted the surface of the bar. “Bring it here, I have to close it. Is the movement okay now?”

Killian slowly forced himself out of his stunt. He put the prosthetic onto the bar, this time closely observing Walter. The younger man held the arm down and looked expectantly at him.

“Well?”

“It’s, it’s better now.”

“Great!”

Walter started closing the panel, slower than before, taking more care with not touching anything inside. Killian felt a question, pressing onto his lips, and before he could think about it he was talking.

“Why are you doing this?”

The question made Walter look up briefly and quickly go back to his work. “What do you mean?”

After a few seconds, in which Walter closed the arm and started packing his tools, Killian frowned. He moved the prosthetic, looked it over closely once again and finally grabbed his drink, with his own hand. “Nevermind,” he grumbled, going away to sit down and drink his pseudo Long Island in peace.

Walter followed him with his eyes, smirking a little, before grabbing his own drink and sitting down. Lovey skewed her head, looking at him from the back of the sit she was sitting on and cooed. Walter smiled at her, giving her few scratches and pulling out his earpods.

* * *

When Killian woke up he felt hand, shaking his shoulder softly, and jolted up. Before he could attack whoever was touching him he noticed surprised expression of Walter. Killian frowned at him. The kid was going to lose his teeth if he continued being so touchy and careless around him.

“We just landed,” said Walter and took his hand off of Killian’s shoulder. He went to pack his backpack with stuff scattered around the sit he was occupying and grab the bag with his inventions.

“Where are we?” groaned Killian. He brushed his face, making sure to avoid the scarred part, looking through the window. It looked like inside of a small hangar, lightened by the sun, getting inside through few windows. Killian was pretty sure Walter explained to him where will they land, but couldn’t remember it at all.

“Weren’t you listening to me before?” Walter looked at him for a moment. Killian only shrugged. “Well, we’re in Greece. Later today we can take a ship to get to the land and then we’ll go further.”

“Further?”

“Yeah. Unless you have a good hideout somewhere in Europe we could use I think we should be on the way. I bet the agency is already after us…” Walter made a pause then, turning his face away from Killian. He obviously sighed and turned back with a smile. “It’s the first time I planned a trip.”

Killian lifted his eyebrow with an unamused expression. He indeed had few hideouts in Europe and even more potential ones he could think about. Some of them weren’t only his though, so they could not be safe right now.

“Let’s get to the land first,” he sighed and stood up, stretching. He popped few joints in his neck, crossed arms over his chest and looked impatiently at Walter.

After they left the jet, with Walter making himself sure three times he shut it down well, Killian looked at the pigeon, currently sitting on Walter's shoulder. He lifted his eyebrow and pointed out to the bird, finally touching the topic that confused him so much since he met the kid.

"Are you really taking that flying rat with yourself?" he asked. He didn't yet know it was the worst possible way he could ask about it.

"Wh- you- rat?!" Walter looked  _ scandalized _ . He scratched the pigeon, that started to coo and Killian swore it was a very angry cooing. "Lovey is not a rat?! Don't take me wrong, rats are very intelligent animals, but she's a  _ pigeon _ ," he said, as if that part, somehow, wasn't obvious for the terrorist.

"Yeah, whatever. Why is that bird coming with us?" Killian was mostly annoyed now. He didn't want to be stuck with a kid that didn’t know how to shut up AND a pigeon.

"She's my emotional support animal," explained Walter with a pout. He petted Lovey some more, making sure she will feel better after the insult.

Killian frowned, scowled and looked to the side, obviously confused. He heard about those emotional support animals, yes, but he never really thought they were real. Like some kind of shitty dream of grown up babies that thinks there's nothing worse than lack of soy milk in the shop. It seemed stupid to him. Pointless. He was a person that needed a purpose in everything, and he couldn't find any in a pigeon listening to someone's poor, hurt feelings. It was still a dumb bird.

"Man up," he finally managed to bark out. Walter's expression changed from the pout into an annoyance in a second.

"I don't have to  _ man up _ ," he said. "I'm feeling quite comfortable with how I'm being a man and how I show my masculinity. If it annoys your own then it's not my problem."

Killian only grumbled. His own masculinity wasn't fragile in any way and it was  _ not _ what he meant, but the whole topic was too stupid to argue about. He kept quiet then, thinking bitterly:  _ millennials. _

They weren’t quiet for a long time, though. They didn’t even leave the hangar yet before Walter started chuckling, covering his mouth to not laugh any louder. Killian felt irritated again, he was feeling like he was the object of amusement of the younger man and didn’t like that.

“What’s so funny?” he asked finally, obviously getting worked up. Walter made a laugh, shaking his head a little, making Lovey flap her wings and coo at him. He stopped the shaking immediately.

“I-it’s nothing, just-” Walter chuckled again. “Okay boomer.”

The younger man laughed again, covering his mouth. He noticed Killian’s irritation and didn’t want to make it worse, but at the same time just couldn’t stop himself.

It took Killian a moment to answer. “What’s a boomer?”

That made Walter choke. “Oh my god,” he huffed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. He already had an answer and knew he’s going to pay for it. “You’re just like Joe.”

Killian made confused face, wrinkled his nose and frowned. “Who’s Joe?” he asked another question, his confusion and irritation growing every second.

Instead answering and explaining what does it mean Walter wheezed, coughed and started laughing very loud. He had to stop, crouch and hide face in his hand, unable to stop himself now. Killian observed him with annoyed, inpatient look on his face. Finally Walter took a breath, straightened and looked at Killian, this time wiping his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whined, catching his breath and slowly standing up. “It’s just a joke, let’s forget it.”

“It’s not a joke if I don’t get the punchline,” said Killian, making Walter stop for a moment and then smile widely. He thought that maybe he shouldn’t have asked. But the idea of not knowing what that joke was about was too annoying. Killian knew he will think about it for the rest of the day.

Walter looked like he was unsure about telling the punchline but finally he sighed, took a deep breath and said: “Joe mama!” then immediately started laughing again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” swore Killian. He should have expected it to be a bad joke. He should have yet he didn’t and now here he was, wanting to punch Walter, unable to do that because if he did the agency would be there in five minutes.

“Hey, you asked!” pointed out Walter, passing Killian with a smug smile. The terrorist clenched his fist, unclenched it and quietly followed Walter, hiding his prosthetic behind his back.

“I’ll pay you back for that,” he grumbled. Walter only laughed in answer and rushed to the exit.

“I didn’t manage to see Lance’s mansion well when we were here before, come one! I bet some of his clothes would work for you!”

“Wait- you mean that’s Sterling’s place?  _ Was that his jet?! _ ” Killian rushed after Walter, mostly because he didn’t want to be left too far behind and trigger the arm, but also because he wanted to explain that he will  _ not _ wear  _ any _ of Sterling’s clothes in  _ any _ possible scenario.

“Yep!” said Walter, opening the door to the outside. Killian briefly thought that he should have mess the jet somehow, or at least drink more of those expensive alcohols, just to spite the spy. But then he heard a swear and immediately knew something is wrong.

“Hey, kid?” he asked, slowly following Walter outside of the hangar. But before he could leave he heard a gun behind his back.

“Freeze!”

Killian did as ordered and slowly turned his head around. He saw that chick that arrested him, pointing a gun in his direction. Nancy? Not quite. Martha? Well, it didn’t matter. She was pointing a gun in his direction and he didn’t have any weapon to protect himself with.

“Come on, hands up. And by that I also mean the fake one this time!”

Killian lifted his eyebrow high with a smirk. He didn’t move his hands up, though.

“And what, if I won’t you’ll shot me? With the kid right there?”

“Walter’s not a kid.” The chick frowned and then smirked herself. “And anyway, I can just shot you in the leg. That’ll be enough, don’t you think?” She moved the gun down.

And something blew up outside.

* * *

Walter left the hangar with a smile. He was connecting with Killian! They had great discussions, Killian shared some of his past with him and he did it so fast! Walter wasn’t expecting it to happen so fast! Of course Killian was also a terrible case of a boomer, but that wasn’t anything that couldn’t be worked with, of course. After all Walter believed in himself, he managed to change Lance “I Fly Solo” Sterling into Lance “I won’t let you go alone to the shop” Sterling-

“Ugh.” Walter bumped into something, dropping the bag he was carrying, and before he could realize what is it he felt strong arms around his shoulders. Lovey took off of his head, cooing happily and Walter felt his stomach sink. He knew who was it.

“‘Sup?” said Lance with a smug face, but some things, like crooked smile, a frown and unfocused eyes indicated that he’s not calm at all. Walter swore. “Hey, that wasn’t the best greeting ever. And after I came all the way- oof!”

In a panic Walter stepped on Lance’s foot, making the spy cringe and whine, but he didn’t let him go. In fact he squeezed Walter even harder. Walter tried to struggle out of the grasp, but it was impossible for him to fight against Lance.

“I’m sorry! I know you’re probably angry but, but I can’t let us get caught-”

“Walter! Stop struggling!”

“I swear the plan will work out and everything will end well just, just give me a chance!”

“Walter listen to- fuck!”

This time Walter managed to kick Lance’s tibia, successfully making him loosen his hold, and then push him away. Lance grabbed his leg, jumping few time on the uninjured one, before looking at Walter. He was just about to say something through clenched teeth when he saw Walter grabbing the bag, full of his gadgets, and take out Collidescope. Lance reacted immediately, jumping toward Walter, wanting to stop him before tossing the device. But Walter was prepared, he ducked, triggering it and tossing to Lance. He quickly jumped away, landing on his face in the dried off dirt.

Lance swore again, tried to cover his eyes but got hit by it anyway. He immediately started rubbing his eyes, spotting at least three Walters around himself, standing up and grabbing the bag with the rest of the inventions. He tried to reach him.

“Come on Walter! You can’t just run- he’s dangerous!”

“Sorry, Lance.” Walter sounded… sad. He looked at Lance but at this point Lance’s vision got so crazy he felt nauseous and had to shut down his eyes. “He still doesn’t deserve to die.”

“Kid! What was that- Sterling?!”

Lance recognized that voice and felt his stomach flipping upside down with anger and fear all at once. He could currently see at least six Killians, dancing in front of him, and he knew it would be a pain in ass to fight in this state, but he will try and he will win. So, Lance made a step toward Killian, Killian stepped toward Lance, ready to attack the spy, but Walter grabbed his hand and tugged him back.

“There’s no time for that!” he said. Killian shrugged his hand away.

“I will make it quick,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“You know you can’t hit him!”

“It’s gonna be worth it.”

Walter grabbed Killian’s arm again, harder, making him finally focus on the younger man. Walter’s face was scrapped and covered in dust after the fall, but he had a pressing look all over it. Killian hesitated but decided to not care about anything else than hitting Sterling in the face. Hopefully breaking that perfect nose of his. It was worth being caught and dying, at least he would leave  _ something _ behind himself.

“Walter! Get away from him!” Killian snapped his eyes away from Lance for a second. The chick from before jumped out of the hangar with her gun raised high, again pointing at the terrorist.

“Marcy?!”

“Why is everyone so shocked about seeing me around?!”

Marcy! That was her name! Killian made a note to remember it next time and prepared to duck in the direction of still stunned Lance. He didn’t manage, though. Before he as much as made a step Walter jumped between him and Marcy. The woman obviously hesitated. Lance had to see the movement too, the effects of Collidescope were probably wearing off, because he froze, looking more or less in their direction.

“Walter,” started Marcy with an urgent tone of voice, trying to keep it low. “Move away.”

“No! You know this is wrong! You have to see all of this is wrong!”

“He’s a criminal,” huffed Lance, blinking forcefully. “He tried to kill you twice, he tried to kill the whole agency, you have no idea what shit he did before!”

“He- he still doesn’t deserve to die!”

Walter still had stubborn, angry tone of voice, but Killian was prepared for this to be the end of their little escapada. It was fun, somehow, surprisingly. He had a nice drink, even felt a little bit of pain in his long lost arm. He really didn’t have anything else to do, maybe besides finally punching Sterling. If he managed that he could die, he didn’t care.

Surprisingly, though, he felt bad for the kid. For a moment there Walter reminded him of himself before Kyrgyzstan, before getting around the big names, when everything was a lot easier and he still had a lot of people he could rely on. That would help him no matter what. That, for sure, would be pissed at him for ending up in his current situation, would yell at him, probably punch him in the guts for giving up on living on and acting like a jerk to everyone around. But he was so, so tired, it was just impossible for him to see a purpose in trying anymore.

He knew for sure that one day Walter will hit the same wall he did and will turn into old, grumpy piece of shit he was. It would be a mercy to show the kid what the real world was and squashing that naive, happy part of him before it was too hard to give up for him. But, Killian decided, he would save it now, just like Walter did save him those two months ago. A small repay for what Walter did.

So, Killian put his right hand over Walter’s shoulder, ready to take the blame of the escape on himself, when-

“Get down!”

“Shit, Walter!”

BOOM.


	4. In Which There's a Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicidal tendencies mentioned in this chapter. Be safe there, please.
> 
> I'm sorry for a week delay, this chapter was a struggle for me. Mostly because of the discussion on the ship. Hope you will enjoy it! There's some more of the ocs in this one, and even a glimpse of everyone's favourite villain ;3

After Lance left the meeting room, with Marcy following him, Tazuma sat more lazily. He groaned, tossing his head back and running fingers through his dark hair in a dramatic way.

“He’s going to win!” he whined.

“Win?” Vita lifted an eyebrow, looking at her partner with a small, a little forced smirk. Tazuma was cute when he was acting silly, but she wasn’t sure it was a good moment for being silly.

“Like. He will find Beckett first and get all the praise again. As always. And director will love him and everyone in the agency will cheer for him because he’s so amazing!” whined the man. He made up that imaginary competition between him and Lance a year ago and tried to beat the other spy over how popular they were between their coworkers. Vita didn’t mind, it was actually dragging the best out of Tazuma, making him work way better than before.

It didn’t change the fact that sometimes Tazuma was overdoing it.

“Oh I know what did you mean. I just don’t like the way you said it.”

Tazuma finally lifted his head and looked at Vita. She had a troubled look over her face and that immediately made the man straighten and get serious.

“I’m aware it’s not a game, Vita. I was only joking.”

“Sorry,” sighed the woman, looking at Tazuma. She knew he was just trying to lift her spirit. “It’s just…”

“A crazy criminal that can possibly attack us all once again and Einstein of our century whose existence in the agency is kept top secret are free and possibly working together and you’re just stressed because Lance fucking Sterling is acting like a selfish jerk, right?”

“Yeah!” Vita swung her hands up in annoyance. “I can’t understand why didn’t director Jenkins dismiss him from this job! Everyone knows that Sterling and Beckett are inseparable, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were working together!”

Tazuma chuckled, shaking his head. He stood up, putting a calming hand over Vita’s shoulder. “And both of them works with Killian? After they went through all this because of him? Stop creating conspiracies, Vita.”

“Okay, but what if?” The woman smiled cheekily, a little bit of her humor coming back to her. Tazuma only lifted his eyebrow, but it was obvious he was also amused. “Okay, okay. It’s time to work. Lance is already on his way probably, maybe even knows where Beckett is and I  _ bet _ he won’t share that information.”

“Well then, it’s good I slipped Kappel a tracker when we greatened each other, right?” Tazuma smiled smugly, taking a tracking device out of the inner pocket of his suit. Vita wanted to point out that Lance probably left Marcy in the agency, but her partner was faster. “Looks like they’re in a car. I think on their way to Sterling’s cage? That’s the way, right?”

He showed the device to Vita and she smiled, nodding. While Tazuma was more sneaky out of the two of them Vita had perfect photographic memory. She knew where every single place of every single spy in the agency is. And a lot more.

“Look at that. After all the lone wolf Sterling can work with someone else than Beckett,” she joked, making Tazuma chuckle and nod.

* * *

The agency’s jets weren’t as fast as Sterling’s one, sadly. Still, by the route him and Kappel choose, it was pretty obvious they were heading to Europe. Considering that Sterling was flying his private jet, without contacting the agency, he could be heading to any airport in europe, commercial, private or even the few secret ones the agency used sometimes. It did  _ not _ help Vita and Tazuma set the road for him, but for now following Lance and Marcy was enough. Later they would figure something out.

Tazuma left the jet’s toilet and entered the cockpit. He sat by Vita, who looked at him.

“I’ll keep director updated about our direction. You can sleep, if you want to.”

“Aw come on, and miss all the cool road games?” laughed Tazuma. Vita shook her head with a smile.

“I spot something big and blue!”

“Tazu please!” This time Vita shook a little, laughing. Tazuma, proud of himself, leaned back and closed his eyes.

“It’s not that hard Vita.”

“I’m not letting you pull me into this game again.”

“Sure, sure. I know you love it anyway.

Vita laughed again.

* * *

The ringing in his ears was an indication that something blew up right besides Killian, and it was sending him into almost-panic state. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, he couldn’t see clearly and he couldn’t move his right hand or legs or any part of his body. It was a terrible, terrible feeling he could remember from ten years ago, minus the overwhelming pain of burned skin and the crushing pressure in his chest over the realization everyone he knew just died.

A hand over Killian’s forearm was something different, though. First, the touch meant he didn't lose that one as well. Second, it was an indication he’s not alone anymore, not alone, someone’s still there!

Killian blinked the white in his vision away, finally seeing something else. His ears didn’t recover yet, but it wasn’t the first time he was hit with a stun grenade, he knew the deal. He just hoped it won’t leave any permanent injuries this time. When the world got its colors again Killian saw Walter’s face above himself. The kid had a worried look over his face. He was grabbing Killian’s forearm hard, but looking somewhere else. After a moment he looked at the terrorist and an obvious relief washed all over him. He said something but Killian could barely hear the tone of his voice.

The criminal lifted himself, shrugging Walter’s hand off of him and sat down. He looked around, trying to understand what just happened. Walter was looking him over, probably checking for any wound, when suddenly a hand hit him in the cheek.

Killian jolted, still stunned a little, and before he could react the same hand grasped his shirt and lifted him up. He focused on the face, belonging to this hand, and scowled deep.

The man holding him up was Anton Ziolkowski, a mercenary. He was a soldier and apparently hit his head too many times. People were talking a lot about him. That he ate one of his people back in the army, killed his own family, was able to kill whole squad of soldiers only with his bare hands and a lot more bizarre things that Killian was sure he would believe if all of these wasn’t rumours.

But it wasn’t what made the bottom of his spine tingle in a dreadful way. He knew Anton. All it took to have a nice discussion with this man was a bottle of vodka and some kielbasa. Privately he was a teddy bear and would rarely push himself to kill anyone. Beat and torture them, yeah, but they usually managed alive back home. But the fact that this man was here meant someone wanted Killian. Alive. And Killian already was sure who could it be.

“Hi, Killian.” Anton greeted him. “Heard you went mad a while ago. Didn’t I tell you this is a stupid idea?” Even though his english was fluent Anton still had a very strong “r” and was missing the accent. Killian was used to it, though. He smiled slightly.

“What the hell are you doing here, Anton?” he asked, trying to think about a plan. His new prosthetic was useless and he knew Anton was too strong for him to fight against.

“Vacation. I guess I’m too much of a workaholic, though. She’s paying well for you.” Anton swung his second, big arm. Killian cringed, trying to somehow minimize the effects of the hit when, suddenly, Anton stopped and dropped him, then fell to the ground.

Killian, confused, looked at Walter. The bruise on his cheek and under his eye was already starting forming but he seemed to not pay attention to it. Walter was still pointing a pen at the mercenary, who wasn’t moving. His body was only waving a little.

“Kid what, what did you do to him?” asked Killian, with abashed voice. Anton wasn’t his friend, per se, but he knew the man. He was good. Death like that-

“He’s okay, the effects will wear off in a moment,” said Walter. He looked serious.

Killian heard Anton murmur: “that’s new” and pointed his prosthetic at him, looking at Walter expectantly. He wanted an explanation. What did just happen? Why was this giant man just a glob of squishy meat on the ground and  _ still talking _ ?

Walter didn’t pay attention to Killian’s confusion. He turned around, pressing a button on his pen. Lovey landed on his backpack.

“Glad you’re okay,” sighed Walter to her, looking at Lance and Marcy. Lance was still stunned, the effects of the Collidescope and the stun grenade together probably making it worse for him. He was trying to shake it off though, groaning to himself. Marcy, on the other hand, was already standing straight, with arms crossed over her chest. She looked like she was about to scold Walter for a bad prank but she didn’t reach for her gun this time. It was Walter, pointing a weapon toward her, now.

“What are you planning?” she asked. Walter bit his lip. “You know what are you doing right now is a bad case of a treason, right?”

“Yeah! What she said!” Lance spoke, looking a little bit left from where Walter was standing. He was trying to stand up but leaned violently to his side. Marcy had to catch him before falling down.

After a moment Walter nodded. “I’ll figure it out,” he said and pushed the button.

“Walter, wait-!”

Marcy got hit with the Serious String and stuck to the wall of the hangar. Lance tried to duck but was caught on his shoulder and then Walter made sure he couldn’t get free too easily and too fast. “I’m sorry,” he whispered under his nose, grabbed the bag with his inventions, pushed it into Killian’s hands and pulled him after himself.

* * *

“Stop struggling.”

“It hurts.”

“If you paid more attention to what’s happening around you it wouldn’t.”

Walter pouted and bit his lip when Killian, for sure purposely, pressed a piece of cotton hard to his bruised cheek. They were on a boat, taking them to the land, with a lot of tourists around them. Some tossed weirded out or worried glances toward them, especially to Killian’s scars and prosthetic, but neither Killian nor Walter paid attention to those people.

They left the island a good thirty minutes ago. After leaving Lance and Marcy stuck to the hangar, and the man, whom Killian later introduced to Walter as Polish mercenary, unable to follow, they managed to hitchhike. The Greek happily let them drive on the trailer loosely attached to his car and Killian’s ass still ached after that crazy ride. They caught a ship right before it was about to swim out.

According to a flyer the ship would take almost two hours to get to Piraeus.

Beside the occasional “ouch” and “hurts” Walter was unusually quiet. Killian also didn’t enjoy the idea of talking, at least not right now. Even Lovey, like if she understood the atmosphere between the two men, didn’t coo, slowly falling asleep in Walter’s opened backpack.

Finally Killian put a band aid, a pink one with unicorns over it, under Walter’s eye and over the bruised skin. Walter hissed one last time before Killian took away his hand and leaned back.

“You’re such a child,” he commented, looking at the band aid. It was making him think about Kimura a little. And the woman that apparently was on his tail already. Why was everyone so much into those stupid unicorns?

Walter shrugged to his comment and took something out of the site pocket of his backpack. Or maybe it was more of a drawer? Killian didn’t think much about the way to call certain parts of Walter’s weird backpack, because the younger man pushed something into his hands.

“For your scars. I bet it doesn’t feel nice to have them exposed to the sun. It’s gonna cool the skin and protect it.”

Killian looked the plastic container over. There was a creamy, slightly pink substance inside of it and he frowned suspiciously. He opened the container, took a little on his fingers and after a moment spread it around his left cheek. It really did cool his skin there, moisturizing it as well and Killian, with more confidence, spread it around his exposed scars. He really wish he had something to cover them with, though.

“Thanks,” he murmured, giving the cream back to Walter.

“Sure,” smiled the younger man. He hid the container, sighed and looked at Killian.

It got pretty awkward immediately.

Killian stood up and stretched a little, trying to do something to get the awkwardness out of his system. He crossed his arm and the prosthetic over his chest, looking around the ship, making the people that glared at him look away quickly. His eyes moved to Walter, who looked tired.

Suddenly Killian thought about how Walter stood between him and a gun. He wondered if the kid is insane. It wasn’t first time he risked his life for the sake of a man that tried to kill him. That whole thing he did, with breaking Killian out, risked his life, his reputation, his relationships just to make a man that deserved to die live a little longer. Killian still couldn’t understand this whole thing.

“You’re insane, kid,” he said finally. Walter only shrugged, humming a little and putting hand into his backpack to pet Lovey. “Do you even understand what are you doing? What did you got himself into?”

Walter looked at him. He frowned. “Right,” he said. “That man, the mercenary… he said something about some woman? Is it what you mean?”

“No,” scowled Killian, looking at Walter. Then he rolled his eyes. “Okay, that too. But what I mean, mostly, is the fact that you’re currently destroying your life. Why did you think breaking me out was a good idea in the first place?”

“Ah.” Walter perked up a little. “Because you don’t deserve to die like that. No one does.”

“What do you mean?”

“People doing crimes are still people. They should be punished but not like that. Not killed. No one deserves to have their life taken away.”

Killian measured Walter with his eyes, with an eyebrow lifted high and a bored look over his face. Naive. Naive and stupid this boy was. “So you mean that, even if I succeed and killed all those people, every single agent, their families would have no right to demand the same destiny for me?” he asked with hushed voice.

Walter was silent for a moment. He chewed on his lip, thinking about the answer and Killian took that opportunity to continue.

“Let’s take the most famous one, isn’t it hilarious by the way? How a terrible person like that is still so famous and practically loved?” Walter looked up at him, not sure who does he mean. Killian scowled. “Ted Bundy. Wasn’t he a nice guy? I bet he didn’t deserve to die, didn’t he?”

Walter heard the mocking tune in Killian’s voice.

“Ted Bundy was a sick man,” he said. “He was a sociopath. He was literally unable to understand what did he really do.”

“Oh, so you’re saying it’s okay to kill sick people?”

“No, of course no! I mean exact opposite.”

It took a moment for Killian to throw another argument at Walter. He wanted to calculate his next words first. “What you say, then, is that every rapist, pedofile, murderer, every scum and jackass that makes others lives miserable, still deserves to live?”

“Okay, look,” said Walter, a little annoyed, gesticulating. “In my opinion no one deserves to die like that. The system should make sure that people who did it, beside being punished, are helped. Understands exactly what did they do that was wrong. Go back to society and be able to function between people. I’m aware it’s pretty idealistic, but no one is born evil. Like you-” Walter cut off, looking at Killian, unsure if he should continue.

Killian squinted at him.

“Come on. Continue.”

“I… I read your files. Lance told me what happened in Kyrgyzstan. Even if you were criminals… what the agency did was bad. And I understand you were so angry you searched for revenge and did it the only way you could understand. It still doesn’t mean you deserve to die. You deserve an opportunity to redeem yourself, to understand what happened from the point of view of other people. And, anyway, by taking away the life of a criminal we don’t do any better than them. We don’t even try. It’s wrong from moral point of view, it’s against medical oath and against human rights.”

Walter got quiet. Killian was quiet too. Only voices around them were those of the tourists, talking in different languages, not paying attention to their hushed discussion.

Killian felt numb. There was literally no emotion in him after hearing Walter’s speech. No anger, no sadness. He was just numb. Maybe he didn’t see himself worthy of redemption as much as Walter did. Maybe he just stopped caring the moment he decided he needs this revenge. The idea of revenge in the past was really the only thing that seemed reasonable, the need to make Sterling, make the whole agency suffer the same way he did sounded like the only way he could express his pain through. Now, after everything that happened, after meeting this guy, Walter Beckett, whole ten years of his life seemed like a joke.

“What if I want to die?” slipped from between Killian’s lips. He frowned a little. He didn’t care if he was going to die, it was true, but the wish was new.

“What-?” Walter looked at Killian, worried. The older man shut his eyes and sighed.

“Ah. Forget.”

“Killian-”

“Don’t.”

Walter stood up, wanted to touch the terrorist, wanted to do anything to comfort him, but Killian shrugged him away. He stepped away from Walter and leaned against the ship’s side, facing away from the younger man, observing the sea and the sky and the sun.

For a moment there Walter thought about talking to Killian. He still wanted to comfort him, wanted to do anything, but he wouldn’t even know what to say. He was no psychologist and he was starting to see the holes in his plan. The biggest one was that Killian, himself, had to want to change.

Finally Walter sat down back on the bench he was occupying. He checked on Lovey, sleeping in his backpack and readjusted his sleeves. It was hot and sunny and the voices of the tourists were really cheerful.

* * *

“Walter Beckett…” Eva turned a pen between her fingers. She had just the funniest discussion ever, with one of the mercenaries she contacted regarding McFord situation. And even funnier revelation while listening to that man. She could say she thought so, yeah, she could, but there was currently no one to say it to.

After Killian was caught Eva observed the organization closely. She knew that man. He was very, very difficult to defeat, his plan was flawless (even though the sheer idea was stupid) and he should have manage or at least die trying. But he didn’t. And she quickly learned why.

Walter Beckett was the name she learned back then. Her own spy in the agency provided all the info about the guy she would want. And yes, she did want that info. Walter Beckett was an incredibly interesting person to meet, to learn more about, to use a little here and there. Along with his amazing devices, ideas and formulas.

The fact that it was no one else than Walter Beckett, breaking Killian out, running around mostly defenceless (not fully, as was just confirmed) was… chef kiss. Perfect. Magnifique. Made her so, so happy and excited!

Eva made a little scream, tossing her hands and legs in the air with happiness. She stood up from the sunbed, this time located over her private pool, made a little run and jumped into the water. After swimming over the water she moved to the brim of the pool.

“Theo!” she screamed. In a moment the man showed up, holding a towel for her. “No, no, I’m gonna swim around a little. I want you to tell the others to start packing. We’re going back!”

Theo stopped with the towel, smiled back at his employer and nodded. “Did something good happened,  _ Madame _ ?” he asked.

“Oh you have no idea!”

The man left the towel on the sunbed and left to tell the others about the order. Eva turned on her back and started floating around the pool, looking at the blue sky. Finally she pointed out up, to the sky.

“Ha! I knew it!” she yelled into the sun.


End file.
